


Peace Has Its Victories

by MauveCat



Series: A Year in the Life [12]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Family Feels, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MauveCat/pseuds/MauveCat
Summary: Taylor is imagining what her future might look like, but there's still so much she doesn't know...
Relationships: Diego Soto/Varyyn (Endless Summer), Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer), Jake McKenzie/Mike Darwin/Quinn Kelly
Series: A Year in the Life [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885183
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**SEPTEMBER**

As she stepped out of the beach house, Taylor turned her face to the La Huerta sun for a moment before she walked down the pathway to where Jake and Diego sat. Leaning on the back of Diego’s beach chair, she nodded at the two children standing in the center of a large “x” drawn in the sand and asked, “So what’s going on over there?” Xiraana, with considerable gravity, was pointing from the small stones in her hand to symbols etched into the ground, while a wide-eyed Reggie listened with equal seriousness. Xiraana’s purple hat – she hadn’t removed it all day – slipped over one eye, and she absently pushed it back.

Jake took a drink of his beer. “Beats me. Lotsa jumping and screaming, though.”

Grinning, Diego leaned back in his chair. “They’re playing toss-stone on the easy setting. They throw the rocks up in the air – they’re both little, so there are only four stones and four sections– and then they look where they land. Each section has a specific task.” He held up a hand and counted off on his fingers. “I can’t tell for sure from here, but I think she drew the symbols for hop on your left foot, hop on your right foot, jump up with both feet in the air, touch the ground with both hands. Don’t tell her I said anything, but those are her best moves and I think she wants to show off a little. Older kids get more rocks and more sections, there are a lot more different moves, and it becomes a competition. It’s supposed to teach Vaanti kids speed, balance, agility... seems to work pretty well. The average eight-year-old can totally smoke me, at any rate.”

“You’re selling yourself short, Petey. It’s just glorified hopscotch. I bet you could hold your own against even a nine-year-old. Probably.”

“Very funny, old man.” Diego looked up at Taylor. “So how’s Grace doing in there?”

“She’s making some kind of martini with rum, and she seems very invested in figuring out the proper garnish.”

Diego stood up. “Yep, that’s called a Jean Harlow and she’s a big fan. Now I know why she asked me to take over childcare for the afternoon. I want to check the printer to see if IRIS sent over those maps of Sharktooth Island yet, so I might as well pop into the kitchen for a minute and see how Grace is doing.”

“Why do you need maps?”

“Varyyn is _still_ trying to get those sisters to agree to the fishing boundaries, and he hopes some really detailed maps of the coast will help them see reason. I’m not sure it’s going to help, though.”

“All part of the glamour of leadership, kid.” Jake lifted his bottle. “Long as you’re heading in there, you wanna beer me? Gonna need a cold one in a minute.”

“First he makes fun of me, then he asks for a favor. Typical.” Shaking his head fondly, Diego headed for the house.

When he was out of earshot, Taylor sat down in his chair and looked at Jake. “When I talked to Estela this morning, she said everything was fine over in Brazil. How much is she fudging the truth?”

Jake grinned at her. “You worry too much, Princess, but I don’t suppose I can blame you for that. Mike says everything looks good. They’re all kinda nervous and keeping a real close eye on their surroundings, but far as Mike can tell, there ain’t nothing in the air except the usual street crime you see in any big city. I guess Malfoy and Katniss ain’t sayin’ too much about it, but Mike knows they’re in touch with their dad’s prison. Must be a tricky balancing act for them – they wanna make sure no one is trying to get to Rourke, but there’s no good way to tell them to look out for Lundgren. How the hell can they make ‘here’s a picture of a guy who’s been dead for six years, let us know if he shows up’ sound anything but crazy?”

“Yeah, that’s a problem. I don’t suppose he’s done anything to tip his hand?”

“Nothing we can pinpoint. Me and Mike briefed IRIS about Lundgren’s MO. The first thing he’s gonna do is get his cashflow set up, which would explain why he put his claws into Langenfelt – she doesn’t have anywhere near as much cash as the Rourke kids, but she inherited around a million dollars from her folks. According to Zahra, Langenfelt started liquidating her assets back in June and she’d cashed in almost everything by the time she disappeared. Put her townhouse up for sale too – IRIS bought it to see if she could trace where the money was going, but so far it’s still sitting in a bank in Boston. Even without that, though, the General’s got more than enough to get started. He’d hire a couple flunkies first, and then use them to build up his reserves. Have them pull a bank heist here and there, get in on some drug sales – whatever will get him some funds.” Keeping his eyes on his beer bottle, he carefully balanced it on one finger. “IRIS has been tracking the entire east half of the country. There are a couple bank jobs and some home invasions that she’s worried about.” Flipping the bottle quickly in the air, he caught it without spilling a drop. He sighed. “Guy in Ohio got killed at the last one – he didn’t like anyone pointing a gun at his kids. The gunman was big enough to be Lundgren, but he wore a mask and never said a word. His wife wasn’t in any shape to ID anyone.” Setting his bottle on the ground, he finally looked at Taylor. “And there’ve been some petty criminals turning up dead. Granted, those guys don’t have the longest lifespans but IRIS says the pattern bothers her. They found the first two she’s worried about in Florida, the next one in Alabama... it’s pretty likely they were part of the Malatesta heist. Once Lundgren was done with them, he killed them to cover his tracks. That’s how he’s always operated,” he said with a twist of his lips.

Sighing, Taylor stared at the ocean. “How’s Mike doing these days?”

Jake stretched out his legs as he shrugged. “Better than he was at first. Still dealing with the PTSD, but that ain’t no surprise. Actually....” He glanced over his shoulder at the beach house and lowered his voice. “Mike hasn’t told me too many details, but I think Brainiac put him in touch with her therapist. It’s gotta be a hell of a balancing act, considering how much he can’t talk about, but he sure seems a lot more settled than he was a year ago. Do you have any idea how hard... but I guess you do.” At Taylor’s questioning look, he went on. “I started to say something about how none of us can really understand what it’s like for him, being dropped into an entirely new world. But then I realized that I was talking to the one person in the world who _could_ understand what it’s like since you’re basically in the same boat, Princess.”

Taylor thought for a moment. “It’s... unsettling, knowing that I’m not connected to anyone but the other Catalysts. I saw a commercial for one of those home DNA tests and I started wondering what would happen if I tried one. I didn’t, of course – I’m still trying to keep a low profile and I think Zahra would have a heart attack if she found out I let some corporation get their hands on my DNA. But based on the way I was... put together, IRIS’s theory is that my genetic makeup takes bits and pieces from all of you. So if I _did_ take one of those tests, would I get linked to all of your relatives, or would I be the only face on my family tree? Honestly, I think I’m afraid to find out.”

“Family ain’t just DNA, Princess. You should know that better than anyone. Family can be... pretty damn complicated.” Taylor started to respond, but she stopped herself. After a moment, Jake rolled his eyes. “Not knowing is just _killing_ you, isn’t it? Go on, ask away.”

“Oh, geez. Am I really that obvious?”

Jake snorted. “You’re better than Chef Boyardee, at least. Every time I talk to Raj, he tries to figure out how things stand with me and Mike and Quinn and for a smart guy, he’s being really obvious about fishing for information.”

“Jake, you don’t have to tell us anything... but oh my _God_ I’m dying to know!”

With a laugh, Jake picked up his beer again. “Princess, you are looking at a human time-share.” He shook his head. “The two of ‘em started putting their heads together a few months ago. Not gonna deny it, that made me more than a little nervous. I mean... look, me and Mike had something real. I really figured it was gonna be me and him to the end, you know? And then when I lost him... man. That hurt more than I thought a man _could_ hurt. Never really found anyone to take his place, either. It was almost two years after we got off the island before anything started up between me and Quinn. Took us both by surprise, but what can I say? We ended up being good together – she was clear from day one that she was never gonna be a one-man woman and... I thought it over and I could accept that. She’s always traveling for her foundation, and I’m always flying all over for RI, and a now-and-then relationship was what worked for us. Red never saw a white picket fence in our future, and neither did I.”

“And then Mike came back.”

Laughing softly, Jake nodded. “And then Mike came back and everything got shook to pieces. Because as soon as I saw him, everything I ever felt for him came ripping through the scar tissue I’d built around his memory, and... the same thing happened to him. I started thinking about picket fences again. But none of that made my feelings for Quinn go away, and it sure didn’t have anything to do with how _she_ felt. So... things were weird for all of us. My solution was to put everything on hold, which I thought would calm things down. Turned out it brought up a whole ‘nother batch of weirdness instead. So Quinn finally had enough – she told me later that she spent too many years waiting for the ax to fall and she wasn’t a fan of wasting time – and she called Mike and told him that for all our sakes, the two of them had better figure something out. Mike agreed – he said I was too worried about hurting either of ‘em to be any use in making a decision.” Taylor burst out laughing at that, and Jake joined in. “Can’t say he was too far wrong. Not sure how I feel about having _two_ people who got me all figured out. Anyway, they hashed everything out. Then they sat me down and explained how things were gonna work. Took me a while to pick my jaw up off the floor, believe me. But... me and Mike are together, and me and Quinn are together when she’s around. We all know we’re gonna have to get real good at talking about things but... yeah.” He shrugged. “We all hope we can make this work.”

“So do I,” Taylor said with a smile. Then, hesitantly, she asked, “But what about your parents?”

Jake shrugged again. “We’re thinking about what kind of cover story we can come up with because if me and Mike are together, there’s no way I could hide that for long. I wouldn’t want to hide it! And as much as my folks cared about Mike, I’m just not sure how they’d deal with him coming back when they think he’s dead. But we’ll handle it somehow.”

“Handle what?” Diego asked as he walked back from the house.

“We’re talking about how I’m gonna handle that beer you’re about to give me, kid,” Jake said as he held out his hand. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.” After handing Jake the bottle, Diego opened his cola and poked Taylor’s shoulder. “Up you go, hon. I want my chair back and Grace says she has something for you.”

“Ooh, I’m excited already.” Standing up, Taylor turned toward the house just in time to see Grace come dancing outside, two martini glasses held carefully in her hands.

“Better get yourself over there quick, Princess. Looks like Brainiac has been sampling her potions.”

“Be nice, Jake,” Taylor said over her shoulder.

“Why start now?”

“ _Taylor_! Hold these for me so I can sit down.” Grace beamed up at her and, trying not to laugh, Taylor carefully took the two glasses. “Thank you!” After settling herself in one of the lounge chairs and rearranging the skirt of her long, brightly colored dress, Grace patted the seat next to her. “C’mon, sit and drink with me.”

“Is that an order?” Taylor asked as she sat down and handed Grace one of the glasses.

“You bet it is.” Grace smiled at the children. “Awwww, my baby’s playing kwi… kawiki… oh, hell, I can never pronounce it. It’s about fifteen syllables long and two-thirds of the letters are ‘k’ and even most of the Vaanti call it toss-stone now because it’s a direct translation and it saves _so_ much time.”

“Sounds logical to me.” Taylor sampled her drink and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, boy. This is… a little strong.”

“It sure is. I think I finally have the rum-vermouth ratio exactly right.” Grace took a sip of her drink, almost wriggling with happiness. “I am so grateful that Diego agreed to be the designated sober person today.”

Looking down to the beach, Taylor watched Diego walk over to Xiraana and patiently readjust her purple hat so it wasn’t covering her eyes. “He’s really good with kids, isn’t he?”

“Mmmhmm,” Grace agreed. “Did you know that he and Varyyn were Reggie’s first babysitters? They practically had to push me and Aleister out the flat, though,” she said with a laugh. “I asked Diego once if he and Varyyn would ever adopt, like Seraxa adopted Taari – he said they _could_ , but since they’re basically Xiraana’s second parents anyway, they didn’t really feel the need.”

Taylor nodded, then looked over at her friend. “Grace, can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure!” Grace looked over at her. “Um... how personal are we talking about?”

Taylor couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “How did you and Aleister decide that you wanted children?”

“Oh, sweetie, _that’s_ not personal. I was worried you were going to ask... well. Anyway! It’s no secret that we both had awful childhoods. Mine was better than Aleister’s, of course – at least I had my dad and his family to let me know what ‘normal’ looked like. But my mother never made it a secret that I was just another box for her to check off – get her degree, go into tech research, make her first million, have a child to follow in her footsteps.” She smiled without humor. “She scheduled a c-section a few weeks before my due date because it gave her more recovery time before a conference she wanted to attend a couple of months later, and she got her tubes tied while the doctors were removing me.”

“Removing... _wow._ ”

“Exact quote, by the way. She never told my dad she was pregnant – he only found out about me when she called him to get his family medical history. I think she was probably sincerely shocked when he sued for visitation rights. And poor Aleister....” Grace’s forehead creased in remembered distress. “He was so isolated, so alone. Even after we got together, it was a long time before either of us could really talk about what our childhoods were like. At some point we moved in together – and looking back, we both pretended to be so adorably rational and practical about it – and we started talking, in very general terms, about getting married and the possibility of children. We were both very much in favor of it... on a purely theoretical level. But that doesn’t explain _why_ we wanted to be parents, does it?” Grace smiled to herself. “I suppose to people who didn’t know us, it might have seemed like an alliance rather than love. We’re both the children of billionaires, we’re both bright enough... I’m sure that to the rest of the world, it looks like a pragmatic union. Believe me, pragmatism was never part of what drew us together. Even from the beginning, I saw the kindness that Aleister was afraid to show to the world. And Aleister... he sensed the strength that I never knew I had. Together, we saw the possibility of a future that neither of us had ever dared hope for. And children are the ultimate expression of hope, aren’t they?”

Sipping her drink again, she went on. “At any rate, one morning IRIS stopped by to chat – and sometimes I’m still surprised at how quickly I adjusted to having a hologram for a mother-in-law. Maybe it was a sign of how desperate I was for a maternal figure? I hadn’t felt well for a while so almost as an afterthought, I told her that I’d thrown up every morning for the past few days and my breasts were sore all the time, and did she think I had some kind of bug? Well, she didn’t answer, so I turned around and looked at her and she had the strangest expression on her face.” Clearing her throat, Grace assumed a passable British accent. “She said, ‘Dear, please don’t think I’m presumptuous, but when was your last period?’ And I realized that I wasn’t quite sure so I started counting back... and I sat down _very_ suddenly.” Grace laughed. “And IRIS said, ‘There’s a chemist’s just down the street. Perhaps you should buy a pregnancy test?’ I was still in shock because I was on the pill... but as IRIS pointed out, that was ninety-nine percent effective provided I didn’t forget a day here or there – which, honestly, I might have – but even so, that still allowed for a one percent chance of pregnancy and people cheerfully buy lottery tickets with far worse odds.”

Taylor smiled. “Can’t argue with that. So when did you tell Aleister?”

“I tried to wait until the end of the day, but I was just too wound up so I called him at his office while I was walking back from the store. He made it home in record time. When he burst through the door, he dropped a bag on the floor – he’d stopped at that same drugstore, and he bought one of every test on the shelf. When we saw the results, I didn’t even think about it. I looked at him and said we were getting married. And he just nodded and started listing all the documents we’d need, and where the nearest registry office was, and should we call Estela right away or err on the side of caution and wait for an official confirmation from a doctor... and that was when I realized that he’d been ready to get married for a while.”

“Awww.” Sniffling a little, Taylor took a sip of her drink. “Is there any chance of a little brother or sister for Reggie?”

Grace lifted her glass. “Why do you think I’m enjoying this so much? Aleister and I are just about ready to start trying on purpose, so I’m going to relish this while I can.”

“That’s wonderful! Do you have a time frame in mind yet?”

“It’ll happen when it happens, but I hope sometime next year. I have to do my best to keep up with Paravet.”

“What do you mean, keep up with Paravet?” Taylor sipped at her drink just as she realized what Grace had just said. “ _What?_ ” She choked and gasped for air.

Her eyes wide with distress, Grace pounded her on her back. “Oh, _damn_. That’s still supposed to be a secret! See, this is another reason I shouldn’t drink, I get all blabby. I don’t think anyone but Mauri knows yet, and I don’t even know if _Paravet_ knows that I know. Please don’t say anything to Diego!”

“I won’t say a word,” Taylor wheezed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Foofy,” Reggie said as he looked at the picture on Taylor’s phone.

“They _are_ really fluffy, aren’t they? Here’s a better picture of their faces.” Taylor scrolled through the photos until she found the one she was looking for. Holding her phone so Xiraana could see too, she did her best to choose words that the Vaanti child was familiar with. She pointed at the two tabby kittens, one brown and one orange. “They’re finally old enough to leave their mother, so Estela and I will pick them up when we get back home. Their mother is called Dulce, which means something sweet. We’re naming this brown one Canela, and her brother is Jengibre, because those are words that also mean something sweet. Aren’t they cute?”

Xiraana frowned a little. “They are wrong. They should be....” The little girl tapped her hat. “Purple?” she said uncertainly, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar word.

Taylor nodded. “You’re right. On La Huerta, cats are purple and pink, like your hat and my shirt. But where Reggie and I come from, cats are different colors, just like you and Reggie and I are different colors. My cats play like the cats you know – just like Reggie and you have fun together.”

Xiraana thought for a moment, and then nodded. “They are cute. It is not their fault they look strange.” All three of them looked up as two small drones flew through the open window.

Jumping to his feet, Reggie began hopping up and down in excitement. “Granny!”

IRIS materialized in the center of the room as one of her drones dropped onto its charging dock; the other remained hovering near her head. “Why, _there’s_ my little man! Are you enjoying your vacation, Reggie?”

Xiraana got up to stand beside Reggie. “ _Haalta_ , Granny! Reggie and I played toss-stone and he is almost as good as I am – but I am still better! – and we found three big bugs and Diego made us come inside. The bugs could not come because they live outside so I will make a house for them. I have a hat,” she added proudly.

“You do indeed.” The hologram bent down to get a better look. “Oh, it makes you look _so_ grown-up!”

Reggie looked from his grandmother to his best friend; then, running to the corner, he picked up his own discarded hat and brought it over. “Me too!” he shouted as he waved it around. Once Xiraana had helped him put it on, he lifted his face with a huge smile. “Look!”

“Oh my goodness, you two are so much alike now! I can hardly tell you apart.”

Leaning closer, Xiraana whispered, “I am taller. And Reggie’s hat is red. _My_ hat is purple. See?”

IRIS nodded seriously. “Thank you for pointing that out, sweetheart. Now I won’t get confused.” She tilted her head at the pile of blocks next to the couch. “It looks like you have a lot of blocks. Do you think you and Reggie could build something to show me?” Without a word, Xiraana grabbed Reggie’s hand and led him away. Straightening up, IRIS smiled at Taylor. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?”

Taylor laughed. “I’m beginning to think that the Vaanti are on to something – that girl would be a lot for just two parents. So how was your mapping expedition?”

“Satisfactory, I hope. I know that Varyyn only asked for a map showing the area directly northwest of Sharktooth Island, but I decided to scan the entire bay as long as I was out there – even if he doesn’t need it now, it might come in handy later. The journey left my energy levels a bit low, so I think I’ll need some time to recharge. I’ve already sent the map to the printer so it’ll be ready whenever you want it. Oh, and I did a little research on the other matter you were asking about. I’m afraid there wasn’t much newspaper coverage at the time. I suppose between the First World War, the Spanish Flu, and endemic prejudice, the disappearance of a young Mexican-American girl probably didn’t seem important enough to warrant any in-depth reporting.”

“Yeah, I figured it would be a long shot. I just thought it might be nice to help Diego figure out what happened to that great-great aunt of his who disappeared. All I found on my own was the census records, but at least that gave me her name. One of his grandmother’s sisters – Tia Florita – was named after her, you know? And since Diego doesn’t have much contact with his family anymore, I wanted to at least give him a piece of his past.”

“That was a lovely thought, dear, and very considerate. I found a few articles from 1918, all very brief, and I clipped those for you. The young lady _was_ mentioned in some of the coverage of Diego’s disappearance, as it happens – it struck the local reporters as interesting that an area family should have two young people go missing almost exactly a hundred years apart. One of them included a photograph of the missing girl. I copied those articles as well, so you can print them all off when you fetch the map.”

“Thanks, IRIS – Diego might get a kick out of seeing the picture.” Taylor looked over her shoulder at the kitchen. “He’s in there now with Jake and Grace – he’s not _precisely_ gloating that he’s the only one of them without a hangover, but it’s close. That’s why I’m watching the kids out here.”

“Maybe that will be a lesson to the poor dears,” IRIS said with wry sympathy. “I wouldn’t count on it, though, especially with Jake. I think I’ll pop in there and do a little polite gloating of my own.”

“Hey, IRIS?” Taylor asked just as the hologram began to flicker. “As long as you’re here, could I talk to you about something else?”

“Of course, dear.” IRIS’s image stabilized. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s... kind of personal. Can we go into my bedroom for a minute?”

IRIS raised her eyebrows. After a quick glance at Xiraana and Reggie, engrossed in the small city they were building out of blocks, she said, “I think these two will be all right for a little while. I’ll keep an eye on them, and I’ll meet you in there.” The first drone arose from the charging station and hovered a few feet away from the children as the hologram blinked out of sight and the other drone floated down the hallway.

Walking quickly in its wake, Taylor entered her bedroom just as IRIS appeared in front of her. Closing the door gently, she looked at the textbook she’d left on her nightstand. She hadn’t planned on discussing the subject quite yet, but since the opportunity had presented itself…. Taking a deep breath, she said, “When I had my medical exam in Boston, you told me that I didn’t have any viable eggs. Does that mean that I _do_ have eggs, but they’re – well, empty?”

“That is… a rather harsh way of phrasing the situation,” IRIS said as she drifted closer. Very gently, she went on. “You seem to have the expected quantity of eggs within your ovaries and my scan indicated that they’re structured in the typical way: a single cell with a nucleus at the center, surrounded by cytoplasm. However, while a typical egg would contain half of the woman’s DNA in the nucleus, I couldn’t detect genetic material in any of your eggs.”

Taylor nodded. “That’s… what I figured. Since I wasn’t created in the usual way, Vaanu might not have entirely understood how human reproduction worked. But….” Reaching for her wallet, she pulled out her blood type card. She pointed to the four little circles of blood, safe beneath the laminated sheet. “There has to be DNA in my blood, though, right?”

“Oh, of course!” IRIS exclaimed. “We’ve discussed this before. The most likely explanation for your physical appearance, along with all your other traits, is that Vaanu somehow took samples of DNA from all of your friends, and then combined them. I imagine if we tested your DNA, I’m certain that you’d show the typical genetic markers for height, hair color – all of it, really. Think of your DNA as being similar to the blocks the children are playing with; while each little piece seems insignificant by itself, the combination of seemingly random blocks can result in something wonderful.”

“Maybe... but Vaanu didn’t have a physical form. How could they have extracted and combined all of that random DNA in the first place?”

“Vaanu seemed to consist entirely of pure energy, and I suspect some sort of electricity might have been involved.” IRIS’s eyes narrowed as she thought. “This is just a theory since I’m in no position to ask them for confirmation, but this actually touches on my medical expertise in cloning. One of the methods – the most efficient, I believe – is to extract DNA from the donor and then use an electrical current to implant it into the nucleus of an egg that has had its own DNA removed. After all, that is what Everett… did….” IRIS stared at Taylor in slowly dawning comprehension. “My dear, surely you aren’t suggesting…?”

“Well, not exactly, but… yeah? Maybe a little?” Rushing on, Taylor said, “It’s possible, right? We could take a drop of my blood or a skin cell or whatever and pull the DNA out, and then put that in one of my empty eggs. That would work, wouldn’t it?”

IRIS shook her head, stunned. “Taylor, I know that you and Estela have started researching the process for undergoing IVF and of _course_ I’ll give you all the assistance I can in that endeavor, but this – are you seriously considering creating your own clone?”

“Not… entirely.” Gulping, Taylor made herself go on. “Estela and I agree that she’ll be the one to carry a child if we decide on IVF since there are just too many unknowns about my body. We’d need a sperm donor – and we think we have someone in mind if you really think this won’t work, and I haven’t even brought this idea up with Estela because I _know_ how insane it sounds, and if it’s impossible, then it doesn’t even matter ….” Taylor swallowed the flood of words that were tumbling out, and she did her best to collect herself. “But… if we could take some of my DNA, and some of Estela’s, and if we could combine it somehow, then… we could really have a child that’s both of ours. Is that totally impossible?”

“I should say yes,” IRIS said after a few moments had passed. “But… at least in theory, you might be on to something. It wouldn’t be all that different than gene splicing – which, I must point out, is horribly tricky, and there would be no guarantee of success. All the same, it might work. But Taylor… before we discuss this any further, I need to know why you’re even considering something like this. IVF is always a gamble as it is. Can it really be that important to you that your genetic code is transmitted to the next generation?”

“It’s not just about that.” Getting to her feet, Taylor walked to her bedroom door and listened for a moment. She could hear Reggie and Xiraana laughing in the living room, and she could just barely make out the low hum of her friends’ voices from the kitchen. With a sigh, she turned back to IRIS. “Sometimes, I... wake up in the middle of the night because I was dreaming of what it was like while I was with Vaanu. I saw so many amazing things – stars dying and stars being born, supernovas colliding, the space between galaxies – but I was always a witness, nothing more. And now that I’m... well, _real,_ for lack of a better word, sometimes I feel the same way. I think... a child would be a way of committing myself to this life, to this _world_. I really don’t think it’s anything like what Rourke had in mind when he cloned himself. And I’m not saying that I couldn’t love a child that doesn’t have my DNA! Sometimes when I look at Reggie and Xiraana, I feel like crying because I love them so damn much. But even if I can’t carry a child myself, I want to know if it’s at least possible for me to create one with the woman I love. I want to know that even if it doesn’t happen, that it _could_ – I want to know if I’m really that different from everyone else _._ Does that make any sense at all?”

IRIS was silent for long moments. Finally, she sighed and said softly, “It does.” She looked at Taylor and said, “I’ll need a little time, both to research if your suggestion is even feasible, and to do a little soul-searching... because, this, my dear, is a significant moral dilemma. All I ask is that you think about this very carefully... and you need to bring Estela into the decision process as well, all right? This isn’t something you can or should keep from her.”

“I will.” Taylor nodded and wiped at her eyes. “I’ll discuss it with her as soon as we’re back in La Colina. Like I said, it’s as much about wondering if it’s even possible as it is about actually doing it. And I promise that if Estela has any objection at all, it’s off the table.”

“All right.” IRIS gave Taylor a small, sad smile. “I’ll be in touch soon,” she said as she faded away. The drone dropped to Taylor’s bed, and she picked it up so she could place it on the charging dock for IRIS.

After peeking in the mirror to make sure she looked composed than she felt, Taylor left her bedroom. Going into the living room, she peered over the couch to check on Reggie and Xiraana. When neither child did more than glance at her, she smiled and walked over to the printer to call up the waiting documents. She looked the map over carefully before setting it aside – she wasn’t an expert, but it seemed all right to her. Next, she looked at the small collection of newspaper articles. The first few were from the summer of 1918. IRIS had been right; none of them had any useful information. All she learned from skimming them was that the Serrano family missed their youngest daughter, and it was believed that she was heading for the East Coast in search of fame and fortune.

The final article was from the fall of 2017. There was a color photo of Diego, probably from his high school yearbook. There was another image beneath it, gray and grainy, of a young girl... a young blonde girl.

A girl who Taylor had seen before.

With a quick look over her shoulder at the kitchen, Taylor did her best to walk calmly back to her bedroom. Leaning against the door and trying to steady her heartbeat, she looked at the article again. The girl in the picture was a little younger, and her hair was just a little bit darker and just a little bit straighter – of course, peroxide and permanent waves had been easy to get hold of, and the picture would have been taken around five years before their meeting– but Taylor was certain beyond any doubt, reasonable or unreasonable.

Flor Serrano looked exactly like Flora Sullivan. And if they really had been the same person... then Diego was related to the Bride of Vaanti legend.

* * *

Christina Langenfelt paced back and forth on the side of the country road. The sun was shining, the air was soft and warm, and somewhere in the trees, a bird was singing. It was a day made for new beginnings. The black SUV – windows tinted far too dark for anyone to see inside, the back seats filled with bags and boxes that the General had forbidden her to even _think_ about looking at – was pulled onto the shoulder. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do if a car drove by, but she’d been too nervous to sit in the vehicle and wait any longer. So she paced.

Her feet wobbled slightly in the loose dirt of the shoulder. Her black pumps (three-inch heels: entirely professional, but still high enough to show off what she knew were damned good legs for a woman her age) weren’t made for walking on soft ground like this. She was still glad she’d worn them. The General had grunted in disdain when he saw how she’d dressed that morning but for once, she refused to let him affect her. The black skirt was just a tiny bit tight around her hips these days, but a second layer of shapewear had taken care of that. Her black wool blazer might be a bit too warm in the autumn sunshine, but she liked the contrast with the rich burgundy of her silk blouse. She’d gotten her hair cut into a sleek bob just two days ago, she’d put on makeup for the first time in... well, forever, and Christina was confident that she could hold her own in any business meeting, any boardroom, any press conference. The woman she had seen in the mirror that morning looked confident, poised, assured, fearless.

She looked like a woman Everett Rourke would be proud to have at his side.

Because finally, _finally_ , everything she had worked for all those years was about to become reality. Soon, Everett Rourke would be free – and surely it would be no time at all before he was able to convince the world that he’d been framed. All he needed was a chance – all he needed was support, and someone to believe in him.

And Christina was that woman.

She believed.

She had sold everything she owned, cut off ties with everyone she knew, and it had all been worth it. She’d kept nothing except some clothes and a collection of flash drives that held whatever remnants of her research that she’d managed to keep when she left Rourke Industries – fortunately, neither of the usurpers or their employees had realized that the files labeled _Christina Langenfelt- Insurance / Occupational_ were significant, and she’d managed to keep hold of them while everything else had been confiscated.

Everything else – her home and its furnishings, her family heirlooms, all of her stocks and financial holdings – were gone. The General told her he needed the money to hire the best attorney in the country, someone who could convince the courts that the evidence against Mr. Rourke had been falsified. It all had to be done in secret, of course – it would be far too risky to let those devious children of his know what was about to happen. It had all gone off without a hitch, the General said, and so she waited here, on this deserted stretch of road in the New York countryside, with nothing but unkempt trees and an invisible bird for companionship. She’d wanted to be there to see Mr. Rourke take his first steps as a free man – she hadn’t _begged_ , oh no, nothing so undignified as that – but the General told her that she had to wait at their meeting point. _You really want Rourke to fight his way through paparazzi on his first day out? Wait where I tell you so we can switch cars, get him somewhere safe. He’ll thank you_.

Mr. Rourke would thank her. He would –

Christina whirled around when she heard a car approaching, the first one in the two hours she’d been waiting. Was it... could it be...?

It was.

Ducking around so she was temporarily hidden behind the SUV, Christina fumbled a small lint-roller out of her jacket pocket. She whisked some invisible dust from her suit, then tossed the roller into the ditch. She smoothed down her hair, straightened her back, and strode forward to face her destiny.

The car came to a stop on the road next to the SUV. The General got out first, scanning his surroundings carefully. And then... and then the passenger door opened, and Everett Rourke stepped out.

He was just as handsome as Christina remembered. His hair and beard were a bit longer, a bit more gray, and he was _perhaps_ just a touch heavier. Perhaps. It didn’t matter. He was her future.

Mr. Rourke looked over at the General. “How long did you tell your people they had?”

Walking to the back of the SUV, the General grunted, “Told ‘em they had to get the charges set by fourteen hundred.”

“So they expect to have fifteen minutes yet... excellent.” Mr. Rourke’s eyes met Christina, and she felt her heart flutter. “I assume this is the helper you told me about.”

“Yeah.” The General pulled a large plastic tote out of the SUV and let it drop to the ground. It popped open – it was empty. What did he need that for?

Whatever curiosity Christina might have felt disappeared when Mr. Rourke walked to her. “Ms. Langenford, is it?”

“Langenfelt,” Christina murmured automatically. She could barely breathe when Mr. Rourke took her hand in his. She hardly registered the smooth leather gloves he wore. “Mr. Rourke, this is – I mean, it’s such an honor – I mean... how are you?”

Mr. Rourke smiled brilliantly at her. “I am breathing the air of freedom, my dear, and I understand that I have you to thank you for that. If I recall correctly, you’re the person who came up with some intriguing thoughts about the potential of AI in the workforce?” Christina could only nod in mute pride. “Yes, yes. Very useful. I assure you, your sacrifice will be remembered for ages yet to come.”

Christina smiled tremulously. “Oh, Mr. Rourke – it was only money. I promise you, I’d have done far more if I’d had to!” The General began walking over to them; she started to look toward him, but Mr. Rourke grasped her hand a little more tightly and turned her slightly so she was facing the road with the woods behind her.

“Don’t sell yourself short, my dear. General Lundgren tells me that you were instrumental in my release and, as I said, you will be remembered.”

Christina bit back a smile of triumph. _Lundgren_. That was the General’s name. Of course Mr. Rourke wouldn’t hide that from her. He wouldn’t hide anything from the woman who had freed him. He wouldn’t – Christina blinked as two things happened in quick succession. First, Mr. Rourke dropped her hand as if it were something filthy, something unclean. Then, something small and round and cold pressed against her temple and something clicked and something exploded and

Everett Rourke looked with distaste at the corpse lying at his feet. “I assume you have a place prepared for this?”

“Dug a hole a couple days ago over in Pennsylvania. Middle of a forest, shouldn’t be found anytime soon. Ain’t too far out of our way.” After picking up the discarded bullet casing, Lundgren shoved Christina’s body into the plastic tote and then hoisted it into the back of the SUV. He grabbed a broom from the back seat and dragged it quickly through the dirt. He looked at the ground critically; not enough to completely erase the tire tracks, but better than nothing. Damn fool woman probably left footprints all over with her pacing. _Can’t be helped_ , he thought as he tossed the broom back in the SUV. _That’s what you get when you work with amateurs._ Some of the people he’d recruited for the prison break might have been useful, but not a one of them had been worth the risk of bringing along to his next destination. Pulling a small black box out of his pocket, Lundgren pressed the single button on its face.

Both men turned at a series of distant explosions. “Fifteen minutes, five minutes... never was too good at telling time,” Lundgren muttered as he slammed the door shut. Easier and cheaper to let his troops go up in flames with the prison. Walking back to the car they’d arrived in, he pulled a gas can out of the back seat and poured its contents over the interior before lighting a cigar and tossing the burning match inside.

“That should assist in covering our tracks. I always hated that prison and it’s only fitting that it’s currently burning to the ground. By the time they even begin to start identifying bodies, we’ll be far out of their reach.” Rourke stared at the SUV suspiciously. “You’ve followed my instructions, of course.”

“Of course.” Keeping his face turned away, Lundgren rolled his eyes. “Same as the car we drove away from the prison. Computer and electrical systems are all disabled. Don’t worry, that bitch wife of yours won’t be able to track you in this.”

“Excellent.” Rourke grinned wolfishly. “And perhaps as we travel toward... Nebraska, was it? – you can finally explain how you survived your apparent demise,” he said as he got into the passenger seat. “From the reports I received, the situation was rather explosive.”

“Not much to tell.” Lundgren sat down and started the car. As they drove down the country road, the smoldering car growing smaller in the mirror, he went on. “Had to make everyone think I was dead so I could get away. Knew I needed time to lay low. And you know how it is when you get a story second-hand – some of the facts always get left out.”

“Perhaps. It still would have been appreciated if you hadn’t taken quite so long to contact me,” Rourke replied sharply.

Lundgren shrugged. “Had lots of stuff to get put in place. These things take time, Your Glory.”

“Your...? Your _Glory_.” Rourke’s eyes gleamed. “I like it.”

“Kinda thought you would.”

Rourke picked up a blue leather case sitting in the console. Unzipping it, he held up one of the flash drives. “I assume these drives contain some of the research that was stolen from me.” He held the drive to the light and read the letters scrawled across it. “CLIO... how fitting. Clio was the muse of history, you know, and I shall build on this to create the future that should always have been mine.”

“How ‘bout that.” Lundgren kept his eyes on the road and he held back his grin. Oh, this was gonna be easy. Rourke was so fucking eager to believe he was gonna be on top again. It hadn’t been easy to get a man on the inside of the prison to start passing messages to Rourke but it was worth it – once Rourke found out that Lundgren had gotten his hands on a La Huerta crystal, whatever tiny corner of his brain that could still think rationally had shut down, and he was gonna let a lot of things slide until he saw that shiny hunk of rock. Lundgren needed the man beside him to find a way back to his own timeline – and, once there, it’d be a piece of cake to pass this crazy version of Rourke off as the miraculously-reborn Emperor. Bugged him a little, thinking about leaving this side of reality before he had a chance to fix up Mouse and Wolf one last time... but a man couldn’t have everything.

Not even a man who was gonna rule an entire world.

_“Whatever you do, you need courage. …To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires some of the same courage that a soldier needs. Peace has its victories, but it takes brave men and women to win them.”_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are.
> 
> It'll be a little while before I begin posting the next part. Just like with "All Nature Pauses," I have it outlined but I know there are some scenes I'll end up moving around. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wondering about Blaire Hall. I can't decide whether she's on the autism spectrum or if she has a touch of sociopathy - or some combination thereof - but my view of the character is that she has a fundamental inability to comprehend that other people exist for any other purpose than to meet her needs. That would make her a brilliant researcher and a savvy businessperson... but a _terrible_ parent.
> 
> And Jean Harlows are amazing.


End file.
